


in the business of date-crashing

by narcissablaxk



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: Comedy, Feelings Realization, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Divorce, Romance, Some Crack, accidentally hot daniel larusso, dilf, lawrusso, no beta we die like men, thirsty johnny lawrence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27561967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissablaxk/pseuds/narcissablaxk
Summary: “Spotted: newly divorced Mr. LaRusso at Home Depot at nine a.m. on a Saturday,” the message said. The picture was blurry but there was no denying that he was looking at a picture of Daniel LaRusso, in jean shorts and a baggy flannel shirt, his hair mussed and, if he looked closely, a streak of grey by his temple.It was a good look.“DILF,” was all Hawk’s reply said, and then a flurry of little picture emoticons that Johnny didn’t understand.He had to use the Google to figure out what a DILF was.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 41
Kudos: 526





	in the business of date-crashing

**Author's Note:**

> People were talking about accidental DILF Daniel LaRusso so I had to write something, because I, like most people, am not immune to the charms of Ralph Macchio. 
> 
> Also, I do mention Robby loving bonsai in this fic, and that is definitely because of my deep love of @poetdameron's fic "tiny furniture" so if you haven't read that, please do.

Johnny didn’t like that he had a smartphone. Sure, it had funny games on it, and he could use it to take pictures of Miguel doing his silly dances after a good sparring session, but other than that, it was a nuisance. Even more of a nuisance was the shit that he got on that smartphone. He still didn’t have a Facebook – he still wasn’t even sure what that was – but he was part of a group chat with most of his Cobra Kai students. 

That group chat alone was enough to drive him to drink, even when he had mostly managed to kick his habit after kicking Kreese to the door. He couldn’t understand half of what those kids said, much less keep up with the conversation (how did they type _so fast?_ ), so mostly he ignored it. But sometimes, when he was bored and _Iron Eagle_ had just ended, he would scroll back through the messages to see what was going on.

It was just boredom, but boredom always brought trouble with it. 

“Did you hear that Sam’s parents are getting divorced?” Aisha’s text from (he checked the date) three days ago said. Johnny sat forward in his chair. He hadn’t heard from LaRusso in a while – not since Robby had gotten out of juvie and moved into his place. It had been all radio silence since then, not that Johnny was complaining. Daniel LaRusso had a way with ruining his life. 

“Yeah, she told me. She seemed pretty upset,” Miguel had responded. 

“My mom said it was karate that broke them up,” Aisha replied. 

“Yep,” was all Miguel had replied. 

The conversation drifted after that, lingering on Hawk’s new mohawk color (purple), and whether or not he was going to change the color of his tattoo’s hawk. Johnny scrolled through, his thumb obscuring half of the messages. He kept his eyes peeled for another mention of the LaRussos (out of curiosity, of course), and stopped at a message from this morning, a picture sent by Tory. 

“Spotted: newly divorced Mr. LaRusso at Home Depot at nine a.m. on a Saturday,” the message said. The picture was blurry but there was no denying that he was looking at a picture of Daniel LaRusso, in jean shorts and a baggy flannel shirt, his hair mussed and, if he looked closely, a streak of grey by his temple. 

It was a good look. 

“DILF,” was all Hawk’s reply said, and then a flurry of little picture emoticons that Johnny didn’t understand. 

He had to use the Google to figure out what a DILF was. 

*** 

Being divorced was shit – really, it was not fun. There were so many little things that Amanda usually took care of that Daniel had just…forgotten that he needed to do. Like wipe down the bathroom counter – when did he forget to do that? He also forgot to buy new razors when he moved into his new place, and had since continued to forget at every grocery store trip. So now he was a guy with stubble, he guessed. 

Whatever, he couldn’t be bothered to change it. 

There was an upside to being divorced (or in the process of being divorced). First, he could wear the clothes that Amanda hated – like his jean shorts that she disdainfully called _‘jorts’_ and hid at the back of their shared closet, and his flannel shirts, which he had completely forgotten were in a dusty box at the back of the study. 

He could also forget to carefully dye his grey hairs back to dark brown – really, who cared if some of his hair was going grey? It wasn’t like anyone was looking. 

Except they _were_ looking, at least, that’s what it felt like when he went to Home Depot and to the gardening section of the supermarket. Everywhere he went, women were smiling at him, and men were asking him pointed questions with their eyes on his jaw. 

Perhaps the world had always been this crazy, and he had been too caught up in his own issues to realize it. 

And then he got to talking to a guy at Trader Joe’s, a tall blond who reminded him of someone he’d rather forget, and realized – people liked how he looked now. His name was Tristan, and he worked at a start-up company (Daniel had no idea what that meant, but he nodded politely all the same). He was nice, and nice was hard to come by nowadays. And Daniel liked talking to people. 

And then Tristan was asking for his phone number, his sly blue eyes sparkling when he smoothly segued from the phone number to a date tomorrow night. 

“You – you want to go on a date _with me_?” Daniel asked, because it was surprising enough that he had to ask again. “I – no offense, but how old are you?” 

“Twenty-nine,” Tristan said breezily. “I know, I know, I look younger.” 

“You know that I am… _not_ twenty-nine, right?” Daniel asked, taking his phone back from Tristan, who had commandeered it to put his number in. “I mean, _not even close_ to –” 

“Yeah, the grey is a little bit of a tip,” and then Tristan reached out and _brushed Daniel’s hair_ , tucking a piece of it securely behind his ear. “I don’t mind if you don’t.” 

And it wasn’t that he didn’t mind, the idea that someone under thirty wanted to go on a date with him would probably qualify as one of the top ten most ridiculous things to ever happen to him, and he’d been dangled off a cliff before, but he was divorced, wasn’t he? 

Why not? 

*** 

Johnny had gotten good at keeping up with the group chat thingy. For no particular reason. It was easier to keep up with the kids when he was paying attention to what they were saying outside of class. That was it, no big deal. 

“DILF alert!” a new message from Chris said. 

“You guys have got to stop calling Mr. LaRusso that,” was Miguel’s immediate response. 

Johnny watched the chat, the three little dots blinking up at him mockingly. Then a picture popped up, of Daniel, leaning back in a chair at some sports bar Johnny vaguely remembered getting kicked out of once, sitting across from a blond douche. 

At least, he certainly looked like a douche. Blond, tan, chiseled jaw. _90210_ level douche. He wrinkled his nose at him derisively. 

“Looks like he’s on a date!” 

“No way.” 

“Mr. LaRusso, bi-con.” 

Quickly, Johnny clicked over to Google to type in “bi-con.” When the definition loaded, he blinked at it. Bisexual icon. Hmm. He came back to the chat and hurriedly read the new messages. 

“This guy is way younger,” Chris’s new message said. “My coworker took them their drinks and said that guy is like, twenty-five or something.” 

“Get it, Mr. L!” was Hawk’s response. 

There were other messages underneath it, but Johnny put his phone down, staring at the worn material of his coffee table. It was one hundred percent within LaRusso’s rights to date some younger man after getting divorced. People did that all the time. 

But Daniel LaRusso wasn’t just people. 

He stood, grabbing his leather jacket off the barstool. “Robby, I’m going to pick up dinner, text me what you want!” 

*** 

He called in a to-go order from the parking lot – letting the woman on the other end of the line know that he was going to be waiting for it at the bar. He checked his reflection in his rearview mirror, flattening the hair that started to stick up at the crown of his head. 

LaRusso was sitting facing the bar, in a grey plaid shirt with the top two buttons undone, his jeans old and worn and just barely torn by the foot. The grey stood out more when it wasn’t blurred by a photo, and the stubble on his jaw was still there. 

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room specifically to make Johnny look like an idiot. 

He managed to avoid eye contact with him long enough to get to the bar; it wouldn’t do to have LaRusso catch him looking, not when there was plenty that Johnny wanted to keep looking at. No, he sat down at the bar and ordered a soda, careful to angle himself so he could see Daniel and his date out of his peripherals if he wanted. 

And then the blond Ken doll started talking. 

“You know, it’s just so rewarding to be starting a business from the ground up,” even his voice was annoying, Johnny couldn’t believe Daniel was listening to this with a straight face, “I know that ferret leashes are like…not a groundbreaking new invention, but it’s so near and dear to my heart, to be able to fill a niche in this industry. And – to be honest – it’s not that hard to get a business off the ground, you know, no disrespect to the Auto King of the Valley, but really –” 

“Um, actually Tristan, can you excuse me for just a moment?” 

Oh, so he had been spotted. Johnny tilted his head toward the empty seat beside him and was not disappointed when Daniel appeared at his side. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth, which was unfortunate because Johnny was not listening. 

He managed to look even better up close – the grey peppered in his beard was sparse and sexy and his tendency to overtalk with his hands only somehow enhanced the distinguished businessman on vacation look he was apparently working now, and his brown eyes, usually wide and guileless, were narrowed and annoyed. 

“Johnny?” 

“Hmm?” he asked, reaching blindly for his soda and almost knocking it clean over. “What? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over that ten-year-old mouthpiece talking about ferret leashes.” 

“You –" 

“Careful, old man, you’ll pop a blood vessel,” Johnny warned. Daniel froze, his jaw tightly clenched, and Johnny felt pressured to add, “The grey looks good. You should keep it.” 

Now Daniel was really floundering, mouth opening and closing like a fish, and Johnny chuckled. “I just came to get food for me and my kid,” he said, even though Daniel didn’t ask. “So you can go back to your date –” he watched Daniel blanch, “even if he talks like a toe.” 

A startled laugh snuck out of Daniel’s mouth, that he quickly covered with his hand. “You – you gotta go,” he said, motioning toward the door, while backing away, back to his table. 

Johnny gave him a sarcastic salute and continued to wait for his food. 

Ten minutes later, as he was scrolling past the messages in the group chat that included Chris saying “Spotted: Sensei, getting take out,” he spotted Daniel, out of the corner of his eye, leaving. 

Alone. 

He suppressed a smile and went home. 

*** 

Daniel pulled into his driveway an hour later, trying not to look at his phone, where he had a waiting message from Tristan, who he’d left at the table in the middle of another monologue after muttering something about needing to go and darting out the door. Tristan was pretty – if he didn’t think about it for too long, but Johnny was right. He _did_ talk like a toe, whatever that meant. 

It was a shame that he was so insufferably boring, especially when he was so young. If he thought back to himself at twenty-five, he’d like to think he was at least marginally more interesting. 

And if he thought too long about what he said about getting a business off the ground, he was going to explode. 

He forced himself out of the car, ignoring the way his knee popped, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. 

He ignored the text he had from Tristan (“Had a good time babe xx”) and pulled up a new message to Johnny Lawrence. 

“You’re right,” he typed with no preamble. “He does talk like a toe.” 

He watched the little three dots pop up underneath the message and waited, keys in hand, on his doorstep, for the response. 

“A ten-year-old toe,” the message said, and Daniel laughed, the sound echoing off his doorstep, and put his phone away. 

*** 

The next time Johnny saw Daniel was by complete accident. He went to Home Depot to try to find a bonsai for Robby, who apparently loved those things now, and was struggling to adapt to his new apartment with his father while his mom was in rehab. He didn’t know anything about bonsai, much less where to find one (other than from Daniel goddamn LaRusso, and he was _not_ about to ask him) so he figured one of the nerds in orange aprons could help. 

Except they couldn’t help, at least that’s what he got from the diminutive redheaded girl at the Gardening Center, who apologetically told him they didn’t carry bonsai because they were incredibly fragile and hard to sell. 

“You could try LaRusso Auto Group,” she said off-handedly. “They give them to people who buy cars there, I’m sure they’d just sell you one.” 

“Yeah, no,” Johnny brushed her off, eyes already searching the aisles around him for something that might please Robby instead of the damn bonsai tree. “Thanks, though.” 

“Okay,” she said, shrugging her shoulders, moving off to talk to someone else. 

Johnny sighed and turned around, ready to give up and try again somewhere else, when he spotted – holy shit, was LaRusso wearing _sweatpants_? He closed his eyes, the image of him already burned into his retinas, and took a deep breath. He could just pretend he didn’t see him and leave. He could just – 

“Johnny?” 

_Fuck._

He opened his eyes, and there he was, just standing there holding a goddamn watering can like he _wasn’t_ wearing grey sweatpants in public, and Johnny didn’t even have to be in on the teen lingo to know that grey sweatpants were the thing that people found insanely sexy on men because _yeah,_ he got it. Like, he _really_ understood. 

“LaRusso,” he said, and his voice was fucked up, like he was on the edge of choking on something, and Daniel tilted his head at it like he was concerned. 

“Wh – what are you doing here?” he asked, confused. 

“Do you own the Gardening Section of Home Depot, too?” Johnny asked, trying hard not to look at the faded band tee Daniel was wearing, because he was pretty sure it said REO Speedwagon on it, and god damn it, he loved that band. 

Daniel laughed, a flash of white teeth in the morning sun, and Johnny stopped breathing. “Yes, Johnny, I go to the places I think you’ll be and buy businesses just to make your life difficult.” 

Which would have been funny if he wasn’t actively making his life difficult right now, looking like that this early in the morning. Who the hell told LaRusso he had to wear suits all the time? Whoever it was now occupied enemy number one in Johnny’s mind. 

“Johnny?” 

Oh shit, he wasn’t paying attention again. 

“I was…” he paused, eyes roving over Daniel’s face, the way his hair was decidedly messy in an accidental way, not like he did it on purpose. Perhaps divorce was difficult – it hadn’t really been, for him, but LaRusso took everything personally. “Actually, I could use your help.” 

LaRusso’s eyebrows went straight up to his hairline, his mouth dropping open for a second before he recovered. “You…huh?” 

“Robby misses his mom,” Johnny said, shifting uncomfortably to his other foot. “And, I think, he misses you too.” 

“I see him three times a week –” 

“Living with me isn’t the same as living with Mr. Rich Encino –” 

“Come on, Johnny, you’re his _father_ –” 

“This isn’t my point,” Johnny waved him off. “I wanted to surprise him with something that might…help him. I wanted to…” he paused again, enjoying the way LaRusso was hanging on his every word, the whole rest of Home Depot forgotten, especially the blonde thirty-something at the potting soil who was obviously checking him out. 

“Wanted to?” 

“I wanted to get him a bonsai,” he finally relented, and boy, was it worth holding back for a second, because the beaming smile that took up LaRusso’s face almost knocked him clean over, and then he was taking Johnny by the arm and pulling him down the aisle, grabbing the tools that Robby would need, chattering on about what was important about bonsai maintenance and – well, Johnny wasn’t listening. 

But he was smiling. 

*** 

“You are _such_ an asshole!” 

Daniel wasn’t sure how they got here – one minute he had been minding his own business, on a date with some investment banker he met at the Farmer’s Market, and the next minute he was yelling at Johnny Lawrence in the parking lot. 

Johnny Lawrence, who just crossed his arms over his chest and smirked at him. 

“I’m not an asshole, LaRusso, I just asked a simple question.” 

A simple question about whether or not his date (his name was Walter, he thought) was taking Daniel out on a very public date to recover his flagging business interests, which, as a rule, was far too educated and complicated for Johnny to be asking about. 

“How – how did you even know anything about what Walter does?” he asked, and Johnny pursed his lips and looked away, his eyes betraying a very familiar look that Daniel had seen far too often in his adult life. 

“Did you Google him?” he asked, his voice dropping dangerously low. “How did you even know about him?” 

Johnny didn’t answer but rolled his eyes, which didn’t help keep Daniel’s anger in check – at all. 

“How did you Google him, Johnny?” he shouted, a woman walking to her car jumping violently at the sound. “I know you don’t know how to cyber-stalk people.” 

“He’s on the cover of some stupid magazine I saw at the doctor’s office,” he grumbled. “I remembered his name.” 

“So you Googled him,” Daniel finished for him. “And then you came here to not-so-subtly crash my date and give him the third degree?” 

“One question is not the third degree –” 

“You crashed my date, Johnny!” Daniel interrupted. “And this isn’t the first time.” 

It was, actually, the fifth time now. After Tristan, Johnny had “accidentally” happened upon every single date that Daniel managed to get, and sometimes he wouldn’t say anything, just watch from the bar, sipping a soda and rolling his eyes, and other times he would just walk up to the table and start talking, like he did tonight. 

It had been funny the first few times, but now, it was just vindictive. 

“Don’t act like you’re not grateful, LaRusso,” Johnny snapped. “You know you hate these stupid business-types, these douchebags with their startup companies, and their beach houses in Malibu. You act like you’re interested, but you know what? You’re _bored._ You’re absolutely fucking bored.” 

“That’s – that’s not the point.” 

Johnny stepped closer, close enough that Daniel considered taking a step back, and sneered. “So you mean to tell me you divorced Amanda, the hotshot businesswoman, to go out with gender-swapped versions of her, except less hot and more annoying? I thought you were better than that, LaRusso. Live a little.” 

“What _the fuck_ does that mean?” 

Johnny looked down at him, and Daniel realized, with a jolt, just how much taller he was, how much wider he was, and swallowed. Johnny was studying his face, looking for something in the lines around his eyes, the terse line of his mouth. 

“Nothing,” Johnny said, stepping away and out of his space. 

Daniel let out a long breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

“Have fun on your date,” he snapped, and got into his car. 

*** 

He was still annoyed with LaRusso a whole week later, when he stumbled into his orbit again, by checking the Cobra Kai group chat. It seemed looking insanely hot didn’t keep LaRusso from being an annoying little prick, which was unfortunate, because it also didn’t stop Johnny from finding said prick insanely hot. 

It was a problem. 

“Spotted: DILF at the roller rink with…another DILF?” Tory’s message said, which was, of course, followed by a picture, because Johnny just couldn’t have any goddamn peace in his life anymore. 

And it was, of course, LaRusso in the same faded jeans from that first date and a red flannel shirt that Johnny was sure he had in his own closet. Across from him was another guy, who looked to be about his age, at least, leaning forward against the table, close to him. 

“Is that…dude isn’t that one of the other senseis? Topanga Karate or whatever?” Bert asked. 

“Yeah, I remember that face from kicking his student’s ass,” Miguel replied with a laughing emoji. 

So LaRusso was dating other karate people now? Johnny sighed, setting his phone down on the coffee table in front of him. That felt like a personal attack. 

He left his phone there, even though it kept beeping with every new message in the group chat, and refused to look at it again. Let LaRusso have fun on his stupid date – he didn’t need it ruined by Johnny. 

*** 

Daniel spotted the phone as soon as Tory raised it, snapping a not-so-covert picture of him sitting across from Josh, who was going on about the mental exercises he had his students do. When Josh had asked him out, he had initially said no – his argument with Johnny was still fresh in his mind, and there was something about it he couldn’t put his finger on that upset him. 

Perhaps it was that Johnny was right. All of the guys he’d dated _were_ boring – he didn’t want them to be boring, but they were. He could barely keep his eyes open while they talked his ear off about something innocuous that he couldn’t bother to follow. 

But Tory had taken his picture, which probably meant that Johnny would be here any minute, sauntering in with his faded jeans and old band shirt, ready to ruin Daniel’s date under the guise of helping out a friend. 

Except ten minutes went by, and then half an hour, and then an hour, and Johnny was nowhere to be seen. 

He checked his phone, and then his watch. 

“Do – do you have to go?” Josh asked. 

“What?” Daniel asked. 

“You keep checking your phone,” Josh pointed out. “It’s – it’s okay if you have to go. I don’t mind.” 

He was _so nice_ – suddenly Daniel felt overwhelmingly guilty for being so obviously absent. “No, no, I don’t have to go,” he said, putting his phone face down on the table. “What were you saying about Topanga?” 

*** 

Johnny didn’t like being alone in his apartment anymore – the days when Robby went to Sam’s house to study or Moon’s for date night were lonely without him, now that he had gotten used to seeing his son puttering around his house, clipping his bonsai, closing his eyes and touching the leaves, washing the dishes, doing what normal sons did with their normal fathers. 

He stared at his can of RC Cola on the table. Nights like tonight made him want to drink a beer, but he’d thrown it all out when Robby came to live with him. He’d had maybe three beers since then, all celebratory ones that he finished and promptly replaced with soda. 

He flipped through his few channels until he landed on an 80s movie ( _Dirty Dancing_ , he’s pretty sure) and settled into the couch to stare aimlessly at it. 

He must have drifted off, because the next thing he remembered, someone was pounding on his front door and the movie was over. 

“Calm down, I’m coming,” he grumbled, forcing himself up off the couch. 

It was LaRusso, in that same flannel and faded jeans, his face stern. Johnny furrowed his brows, looking behind him. 

“What?” he asked. 

“What do you mean _what_?” Daniel asked. “Where the hell were you?” 

Johnny squinted. “I’m confused. Was I supposed to be somewhere?” 

LaRusso rolled his eyes, shoving himself past Johnny into the apartment. “Where’s Robby?” 

“With Sam,” Johnny said. “Studying calculus or something.” 

“Good,” Daniel nodded pensively before rounding on Johnny again. “Which begs the question where the _hell_ were you?” 

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Johnny said, at a loss. It really didn’t help that LaRusso was even better looking when he was angry, which was probably a preference he should talk to a therapist about, but right now, in the moment, it was very distracting. 

“I saw your little Cobra Kai take a picture of me on that date,” he said. “I know you got it.” 

Johnny remembered Tory’s message. “Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “I got it.” 

“So, where were you?” 

“You told me not to!” Johnny replied, exasperated. “God, everything I do just pisses you off, doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah, Johnny, it kind of does,” Daniel snapped, pacing around the small living room. “Because you can’t just crash half a dozen dates, ruin them all with that stupid face, tell me that you’re doing me a favor, and then just stop doing it!” 

Johnny furrowed his brows. “You _literally_ told me to stop it.” 

Daniel groaned, running his hands through his hair, which only made it stick up more. Johnny watched, fascinated. 

“Did you take that toolbag there because you knew one of my Cobras worked there?” Johnny asked. “Because you _wanted_ me to crash your stupid date? Which, while I’m at it, dating another sensei? Transparent, LaRusso.” 

“Oh, and you’re not?” 

Johnny frowned. “Not what?” 

“Transparent? Showing up at all of my dates, making sure it was impossible for me to have fun? You thought you were slick?” Daniel asked, the back of one of his hands rubbing against the stubble on his chin. Johnny swallowed. 

“I was being a good friend –” 

“Bull _shit_ Johnny, you were jealous –” 

“Come on –” 

“No, _you_ come on!” Daniel snapped. “You want to be one of those guys instead? Then just ask.” 

Johnny froze, his mouth already open, ready to deliver a snide rebuttal. “What?”

“You want to date me?” Daniel said, slower and more deliberately. “Then just _fucking ask_.” 

Johnny hesitated. “I –” 

“God, you’re such an idiot,” and then Daniel was grabbing him by the front of his shirt and kissing him, kissing him so completely that he actually stumbled forward a step, Daniel’s back landed solidly against the front door. He laughed at the impact, the sound traveling through his body and into Johnny’s. 

Johnny pulled back, long enough to take in Daniel’s face up close, his hand running over the stubble on his jaw up to his hair, and then back down to the flannel shirt. 

“How old is this shirt, anyway?” he asked, tilting Daniel’s head up to kiss his neck while he waited for an answer. Daniel sighed, hands on Johnny’s shirt tight like he was afraid of letting go. “Hello, LaRusso –” 

“Probably as old as yours,” Daniel muttered, pulling Johnny up for another kiss, hands in his hair and then back to his shirt. Johnny slipped one arm behind his back and lifted, letting Daniel wrap his legs around his waist. 

“Can’t have your knees buckling,” he said smugly. Daniel pulled away to roll his eyes so hard his whole body moved with it. 

“Shut up,” was all he said before he came back for another kiss, so good that Johnny had to rest Daniel’s back against the wall again, distracted by his mouth and his tongue. 

“You gonna drop me?” Daniel muttered against his mouth, and Johnny pulled him off the wall with more conviction this time, carrying him to the couch, where he gently dropped Daniel onto the cushions and crawled on top of him, caging him in place with his arms. 

“I’d take you somewhere else, but Robby will be back by eleven,” Johnny said, moving down Daniel’s body to unbutton the flannel’s buttons, pressing kisses to the bared skin. 

“That’s okay,” Daniel said, and he was breathless, the Jersey accent more pronounced now, if that was even possible, “We have time.” 


End file.
